


chained (our hearts in vain)

by bayloriffic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Handcuffs, bound by magic, chained together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayloriffic/pseuds/bayloriffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Regina are chained together by a curse that can only be broken by True Love's kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Emma

**Author's Note:**

> This goes AU sometime in late season 2.

When Emma wakes up, it’s dark and her head hurts and she doesn't know where she is or how she got there. 

The last thing she remembers, she was talking to Regina on the street outside Granny’s, the two of them arguing about living arrangements with Henry, trying to work out some kind of shared custody agreement. 

But that was outside and it was at night, and now she’s laying on a bed in an unfamiliar room, grey pre-dawn light filtering in through the window. 

She sits up, and slick, cool silk sheets slide under her hands as she braces her palms on the mattress. She focuses on sitting upright as she tries to get her bearings, forcing herself not to panic. Other than her complete confusion, she seems to be more or less okay, except for a dull ache in her right shoulder that makes her groan and stretch. Or, at least, she _tries_ to stretch, but she can’t move her right arm, something heavy weighing her down. 

She tugs a little harder, and something warm constricts around her wrist, and then she hears someone groan. She feels a rush of adrenaline as she blinks into the semi-darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. 

When they do, when she can finally see what's happening, she squeezes her eyes shut again almost immediately, willing for this all to be a dream. It _must_ be a dream. Please god, let it be a dream.

Because if it’s not a dream, that means that she’s in bed with the Evil Queen, their wrists bound together with a strange-looking cuff, thick black leather that ripples with the tell-tale purple glow of magic. So she keeps her eyes closed tight, and takes a couple of deep steadying breaths, trying to calm down, trying to convince herself when she opens her eyes, everything will be fine.

But then: “What the hell is going on, Miss Swan?” Regina says, and her voice is all too real, destroying any hope that this is just a really messed-up nightmare.

Emma blinks her eyes open, and yep, it’s real. She’s still chained to her worst enemy. Excellent. “I have no idea,” she says.

Regina pushes herself into a sitting position and tries to roll away, practically yanking Emma’s arm out of the socket in the process. 

“Ow!” Emma yelps, tugging her arm back down to a non-painful position, Regina’s hand bumping up against her hip. She reaches up with her free hand to rub her sore shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Regina.” 

Beside her, Regina freezes, her eyes wide as she sees the cuffs. Then: “What did you do?” she demands, her voice going hard and shrill.

“What did I do?” Emma repeats, incredulous. “Seriously, Regina? You think I did this?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t handcuff us together.” Her hair’s all rumpled from sleep, and she’s still wearing the same grey dress she was when they were arguing about Henry in front of the diner, but she manages to sound as haughty and superior as ever.

“And you think I did?” Emma scoffs. Man, she is unbelievable. 

“I have absolutely no idea, Miss Swan,” Regina says, leaning down to get a closer look the bonds. The magic seems to ripple slightly as Regina gets closer to it, but it doesn't fade at all; if anything, it seems to get brighter. She spends at least a couple of minutes looking at it, turning her wrist every which way, and then using her free hand to feel along the edges of the cuffs, her fingertips surprisingly gentle as they trace the line of the leather that joins the two of them together.

"Well," Emma finally says. She knows she should probably let Regina take her time to figure out what they should do, but it's getting a little weird, the way Regina's keeps stroking her wrist. “Can you get us out of it?” 

“Of course,” Regina says haughtily, sitting back up and tossing her hair out of her eyes. “Hold still.” 

She tugs on Emma’s wrist again, holding their arms out away from their bodies. She moves her free hand so that it's over the cuffs and flourishes it, a plume of purple smoke enveloping their hands. And that’s it. Or, that _should_ be it, except that when the smoke clears, the spell hasn't been broken, their wrists still bound together by the leather cuff, the violet haze of the magic glowing dimly.

Emma’s wrist is starting to hurt, the leather rubbing painfully against her skin. Finally: “What are we going to do now?” she says.

Regina doesn’t answer, just sighs, and reaches up to drag a hand through her hair. When she does, she brings Emma’s hand with hers, the gesture weirdly intimate, Emma’s fingers brushing against the crown of Regina’s head. 

“I have no idea,” Regina finally says, and it’s enough to unsettle Emma, the Evil Queen admitting she doesn’t know what to do.

“Okay, well,” Emma says, trying to think. “Maybe we should try and find out who did this to us? Get them to reverse the spell.” 

“And where would you suggest we begin looking?” Regina demands, putting her hands on her hips, Emma's hand moving with hers. 

“I don’t know,” Emma says, trying to ignore how her hand is basically resting on Regina's hip. The fabric of her dress is surprisingly soft against Emma's skin. “Who besides you and Gold can perform magic?”

“No one,” Regina says, and then narrows her eyes at Emma. “Except you.”

And, seriously? Does Regina actually think Emma would do this? “I. didn’t. do. this.” 

“Hmm,” Regina says, like she doesn't believe anything Emma's saying, like she legitimately thinks Emma's decided to use her rudimentary magic skills to chain herself to her worst enemy.

“I _didn’t_ ,” she grits out, clenching her non-handcuffed hand into a fist. “And, besides, why would I even want to?”

“I have no idea, Miss Swan.” Regina starts to cross her arms over her chest, but stops when Emma’s hands come too, brushing up against her chest. Regina freezes, and the look of outrage on her face would be comical if Emma's heart weren't suddenly not beating right.

*

Once they establish once and for all that Emma is in no way responsible for their current predicament and that Regina can't just magic the cuffs away, they head downstairs, where Regina promises there's a solution to the problem.

The house is quiet, Henry apparently having made his own way to school, and Regina pulls Emma down the stairs and through the living room and into what must be her office. There are shelves and shelves of books, but Regina heads determinedly towards the far side of the room, to a small collection of books with dark spines, titles written in a language she doesn't understand.

After a couple of minutes of searching, Regina apparently finds what she's looking for, reaching up to pull a large, leather-bound book from the shelf. 

She flicks open the cover and then licks the index finger on her free hand before she starts paging through the book. Finally, she stops, drawing one blood-red nail down the page, and then tapping it twice decisively. “Here we are.”

Emma squints down at the book, curious despite her irritation. There aren't any words on the page, just strange symbols arranged in a complicated pattern, nothing that looks like what Emma assumed a spell should look like. "This is it?" she asks doubtfully.

“Give me your hand,” Regina demands instead of answering, holding out her cuffed hand, palm up, and flickering her fingers in a come-here gesture. “We need to do this together.”

“I can’t read that.” 

Regina rolls her eyes. “You don’t need to read it. Now --” she snaps her fingers impatiently, gesturing again for Emma’s hand. “Give me your hand.”

Emma only hesitates for a second before she twists her wrist so that her hand is in Regina’s, palm-to-palm, their fingers intertwined. “Now what?”

“Now,” Regina says, glancing sidelong at Emma. “We break the curse.” 

As Emma watches, Regina leans over the spell book, blowing gently on the page, until a thin rust-colored mist separates from the pages, rising into the air and then hovering towards them. Emma breathes in when Regina does, and it's like suddenly the magic's inside of her, hot and powerful and alive. She tightens her grip on Regina's hand, and it's like they're connected by more than just the cuff, like they're the same person, and Emma's heart is pounding so hard she thinks it might beat right out of her chest.

An electric warmth sparks between them, the cuffs getting hot enough to burn, and purple smoke envelopes their hands. When Emma looks at Regina, it's like she's lit from within, her dark eyes bright, her pupils wide and ringed with violet.

The magic is more powerful than anything Emma's ever encountered, filling up every part of her, making her feel more alive than she's ever felt, and she can tell Regina feels it too, the two of them grasping each other's hands, holding onto each other as the power flows between them. But then, when the magic clears, that bright-alive feeling draining from Emma's body, the cuffs are still there, the two of them still bound together by the curse.

“Damn it!” Regina snaps the book closed and actually stomps her foot, like a child throwing a tantrum. "That should have worked." 

Yeah, it probably should have, with magic that strong. But it didn't. Emma just stands there, trying not to freak out. Okay, so. Regina can’t break the curse. That doesn’t mean the curse can’t be broken at all, right? All curses can be broken. She’s basically living proof of that. What she and Regina need to do is to not panic, to figure out their next move and do whatever they can to break this spell.

*

They end up going to Gold because he’s the only one they can think of who might be able to tell them something about the magic that’s binding them together. He’s in his shop, of course, and he looks up with a small, secret smile when they walk in together, their bound wrists hidden under Emma's red leather jacket.

“Mayor Mills and Sheriff Swan,” he says, folding his hands against the counter, his mouth curling up at the corners. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We need your help,” Emma says, moving quick to cut Regina off before she says something that will just piss Gold off. 

“And why might that be?” he asks. He’s still got that little smile, but there’s a curious glint in his eye. 

Instead of answering, Emma pulls the jacket off their wrists, pulling Regina’s hand up with hers to show him the cuffs. When he sees what’s happened, the corner of his mouth twitches. “Well, well, well,” he says, picking up his cane and making his way around the counter. “What do we have here?”

“It’s a spell,” Regina says, and Gold smiles indulgently.

“Yes, I can see that,” he says, leaning closer to their wrists and tracing one finger along the line where the cuffs bind them together, this look on his face like he’s admiring the craftsmanship of the magic. “And who cast it?”

“We don’t know,” Emma admits, resisting the urge to squirm under his examination. “But we were hoping you could help us break it.”

“Help you?” Gold says, straightening and giving them a shrewd look. 

Beside her, Regina sighs, annoyed. “Yes, Gold,” she says. “Help us.”

“And what will you give me in return, dearie?”

“Anything,” Emma says. Regina shoots her a sharp look, which Emma ignores. She knows making deals with Gold is bad news, but there’s no way in hell she’s staying handcuffed to Regina any longer than is absolutely necessary. 

“Anything,” Gold repeats. He grins broadly at them, his gold tooth glinting in the dim light of the shop. “How about…” he says, flourishing one hand in the air. “A favor? One from each of you?”

“Done,” Emma says quickly. Beside her, Regina is glaring at Gold, not agreeing to his deal.

“And what about you, your majesty?” he finally asks. “Do we have a deal?”

Regina exhales heavily, starting to cross her arms over her chest. When Emma’s hand brushes up against her breast, Emma’s breath hitches in her throat and Regina stops suddenly, her arms dropping down at her sides. “Fine,” she says. “Break the spell and I’ll owe you a favor.”

Gold grins, triumphant, and then waves a hand over their wrists, a flourish similar to the one Regina tried just a little while ago. The smoke that appears is a deeper, richer color than Regina’s magic, and Emma waits for the pressure to lift off her wrist. But it never does, the cuff getting hot and tight, but when the smoke clears, it's still there, still binding them together. 

“It didn’t work,” Regina says tightly, and Gold looks puzzled, his head tilted as he squints at the cuffs. 

“Indeed it didn’t,” Gold says vaguely, and Emma's stomach drops. 

“What do we do now?” she asks, trying not to panic. It’s just, if Gold can’t break the spell and Regina can’t break the spell, they’re pretty much out of luck. And Emma can't spend the rest of her life shackled to Regina. There's no way.

“Well,” Gold shrugs, his face going serene and bored again. “It seems like you’ll need to find a more powerful magic.” He turns away from them, limping back behind the counter. 

Emma blinks. "A more powerful magic? _You're_ the most powerful person in this town."

Gold smiles. "Well, I'm flattered you think so, Miss Swan. But, alas, it seems I'm not powerful enough to break this particular curse."

"So what the hell are we supposed to do now?"

“I’ll begin to work on a counter-curse," Gold says with a shrug. "But I'm afraid I can’t make any promises. You may have to try alternate methods.”

“Alternate methods?” Regina repeats. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, _your majesty_ , that there are other ways to break curses.”

“What ways?”

“Oh, you’re a smart woman, Regina,” he says, giving her a knowing wink. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Regina just stares at him for a few beats and then she gets a panicked look on her face, her eyes going wide and worried. “Oh, no. No way,” she says, sounding as nervous as Emma’s ever heard her. “That’s not the way, Gold.”

But Gold doesn’t answer, just shrugs and heads behind the curtain that blocks the back of the store, effectively dismissing them. When they don’t leave, Gold sighs and folds his hands over his cane, the corner of his mouth turned up in an almost-smile. “Like I said, dearie. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Regina stares at him, eyes wide, and Emma tries to ignore the slightly sick feeling in her stomach, the one that tells her she knows exactly what Gold and Regina are talking about.


	2. Regina

After they leave Gold’s shop, Regina drives back to her house on autopilot, trying to come up with another solution, trying to ignore the feeling of Emma’s hand next to hers on the gear shift, trying to ignore Emma altogether. 

Neither one of them says anything the entire ride, and if Regina’s willing to be grateful about anything right now, it’s that Emma isn’t prone to unnecessary chatter. 

It’s just that she can’t stop thinking about it, what Gold said. That there’s only one surefire way to break any curse. True Love. Why does _everything_ always come back to true love?

Not that she’s worried that Emma Swan is her true love. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The truth of the matter is, she has it on quite good authority that her true love is still out there somewhere, lion tattoo and all. Which means that unless either she or Gold can find a counter-curse, she might be damned to be chained to Emma Swan for the rest of their lives. It’s a fate that’s almost too terrible to even contemplate.

So she tries to ignore Emma’s presence altogether, racking her brain to try to come up with a solution to their problem. 

But beyond trying the spell again, she can’t come up with anything. It’s incredibly frustrating.

When they finally get to her house, it’s quiet and empty, and they’ve got maybe an hour before Henry gets home from school and starts asking questions neither one of them will be able to answer. 

“What now?” Emma asks, for what must be the fiftieth time that day. For someone so prone to acting as though she knows everything about everyone, Emma has spent the past few hours being frustratingly lacking in ideas.

“We’re going to try again,” Regina tells her, tugging Emma along behind her. 

The book is right where they left it, practically mocking her with its uselessness. But she doesn’t have any other ideas right now, and she’ll be damned if she’s even going to think any more seriously about Gold’s implications about true love’s kiss right now, so. The spell it is. 

She flips it open to the right page, and Emma puts her hand in hers without Regina even having to ask. 

They lean over the book together, breathing in over the symbols, and the magic hits her just like it always does, the rush just as intense as it was the first time she felt it, all those years ago. More intense, even, a strange development she noticed first this morning, when she and Emma first performed the spell. 

It’s like everything’s been amplified, the power coursing through her stronger and more powerful than it’s ever been, the dark violet of her magic pulsing brighter and lighter, combining with whatever it is that’s inside of Emma Swan, whatever Savior-magic she was granted with the curse. 

The power sparks between their clasped hands, making Regina’s fingers tremble and her heart race. It’s never been like this before; she’s performed magic with other people before -- with her mother, with Rumplestiltskin -- but it’s never been like this, never this strong and bright and all-encompassing, like there’s nothing else in the world besides her and Emma and the magic. 

It _must_ be strong enough to break the curse that binds them together, the power more intense than anything Regina’s ever felt. The leather grows hot against their wrists, the purple haze shimmering and bright, but when it’s over, when the magic has faded, leaving only the prickling sensation on her skin and the racing of her heart, they’re still bound together, the curse still intact.

“Damn it!” She slams her free hand down on the book, hard enough that Emma flinches beside her. 

“Regina--” she starts, but Regina ignores her, shaking her head. 

She flips through it more than a little desperately, a couple of the pages ripping enough to make the magic leave the page, swirling around her and making her dizzy. But she doesn't stop. It's just -- there must be another spell in here, a curse, a potion, an incantation, _something_ that will help them. But she gets all the way to the end and doesn’t find anything, so she flips back to the original spell. 

“Give me your hand,” Regina demands, flipping her hand so that it’s palm-up, ready to try the spell again. The curse they’re under must be able to be broken through magic; there’s no other way. “We’ll it try again.” 

“Regina, _stop_ ,” Emma says, sounding about as frustrated as Regina feels. Their fingers are still entwined and Emma tightens her grip, her fingernails biting into the back of Regina’s hand. “It doesn’t work. We’ve tried twice now, and both times it’s been a bust. Besides, Gold’s the most powerful guy in town and even he couldn’t do anything.” 

Regina sneers. “Together, we’re more powerful than he could even imagine of being.” 

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t seem like it.” Emma sighs, scrubbing her free hand across her face. The skin on her wrist is is raw-looking, her skin bright red next to the dark leather of the cuff.

“You just need to grow stronger,” Regina tells her. She refuses to believe that they can’t break this curse. Together, they’re strong enough. They have to be. Because if they’re not, if Gold’s right, if the only way to break this curse is through true love’s kiss, then. Well. They’re completely and utterly screwed. 

“Listen--” Emma says

But before she gets a chance to say whatever it was she was going to say, there’s suddenly the sound of the front door being thrown open and then: “Mom!” Henry calls. “I’m home!”

She and Emma freeze, eyes wide, as they listen to Henry come inside and shut the door.

"Mom?" he says again. "Are you home?"

Beside her, Emma bumps Regina with her shoulder and nods out towards the front of the house. "Say something," she whispers. "Or I will."

Regina rolls her eyes. "I'm back here, Henry!" she calls, glaring at Emma. 

When Henry gets to the office, he stops right inside the office, his face lighting up when he sees Emma. “Emma!” he says, grinning and bouncing on his toes. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m, uh…” Emma says, darting a panicked glance at her. 

Regina clears her throat. “Well, Henry, Emma’s--” she starts, but then Henry interrupts her, his eyes going wide.

“Wait. Why are you guys holding hands?”

“We are not _holding hands,_ ” Regina says, hastily letting go of Emma's hand. She resists the urge to wipe her palm on her skirt.

“Oh,” Henry says, taking a few steps toward them, tilting his head and squinting curiously, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. “So what _are_ you doing?” 

“We’re stuck together,” Emma explains, holding up their hands to show him the cuff. “It’s a curse.” 

“Cool!” His face lights up, like this is the most exciting this he could imagine.

“No,” Regina says, yanking their hands back down. “It’s not _cool_. It’s a nightmare.”

Henry nods, schooling his face into a serious expression, and then he looks over at Emma and says, “So does that mean you’re gonna get to sleep over?” 

“No,” she and Emma say at exactly the same, neither one of them looking at the other. There is no way in hell Emma Swan is sharing her bed tonight. Not again.

“Oh.” Henry’s face falls. “So...what _are_ you going to do?”

“We’re going to break the curse and then Emma’s going to go back to...wherever she goes” -- Regina flicks a vaguely disgusted glance in Emma’s direction -- “and we’ll all get on with our lives.”

“Or,” he says with a shrug of completely unbelievable nonchalance. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe you guys will be friends by the time you’re out.”

“I highly doubt that,” Regina scoffs. “No, Emma and I will get separated and everything will go back to how things should be.”

Henry frowns, like he actually thought that this whole thing might somehow bring the two of them together. "Yeah, but maybe..."

“Sorry, kid,” Emma interrupts, and the crazy thing is, she actually does sound sorry, like this is something she needs to apologize for. “This isn’t a happily-ever-after kind of thing. We just need to find a way to break this spell and get free.”

“Ok,” Henry nods, looking dejected. “Well, I’ve got homework, so…good luck, I guess.” He shrugs and then turns around to trudge upstairs to his room.

*

She and Emma spend the rest of the day in her office, sorting through books and trying a variety of spells to break the curse. Henry comes in around dinner time, and they order him delivery from Granny’s, both she and Emma too focused on getting themselves free to worry about unimportant things like eating. After he finishes his burger, Henry sits with them for a while, ostensibly helping find a counter-curse, but mostly just filling them in about his day. 

Not that Regina would ever admit it, but it’s actually kind of nice, sitting with Henry while he eats dinner, listening to him chat easily to her and Emma about the inconsequential things that happened to him at school. She even lets him stay up long past his bedtime, relishing the casual familial intimacy of the whole evening. If it weren’t for Emma’s presence (and the ridiculous spell, of course), it would be almost a perfect evening.

*

It’s after midnight by the time Regina finally gives up on finding a spell that will work. She’s as tired as she can ever remember being, and her arm aches, a dull constant throb that goes from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. 

They’ve gone through almost every book on her shelves, and they’re still as bound together as they were that morning, the spell stubbornly refusing to budge. 

Emma gave up helping her a while ago, apparently resigning herself to their fate for at least the rest of the night.

“Well, I give up,” Regina admits, closing the book they’ve been looking through with a dull thud. “There’s nothing in here.”

“Thank god,” Emma groans, slumping over her book, pressing her forehead against Regina’s desk. “I’m exhausted.” 

*

By the time they get upstairs, Regina’s dragging. She’s been wearing the same clothes for two days and she’s exhausted and she wants to take a shower and change her clothes and go to sleep, but she’s not quite sure how to do any of that with Emma chained to her. 

“So,” Emma says. They’re upstairs, standing outside Regina’s bedroom, both of them suddenly looking anywhere than at each other. “How are we doing this?”

“How are we doing what, Miss Swan?” Regina asks, like she has no idea what Emma could be talking about.

Emma rolls her eyes, dragging her free hand through her hair. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d really like to take a shower and change my clothes.”

Regina sighs, defeated. “So would I,” she admits.

“Okay, so…” Emma gestures towards the bedroom, dragging Regina’s hand with her. 

“Right. Well. Follow me.”

Regina’s bathroom has never felt particularly small, but, then again, she’s never been in it while chained to the daughter of her mortal enemy. Which is possibly why tonight it feels downright claustrophobic.

When she sees gets a good look at the bathroom, Emma pulls up short, their bound hands forcing Regina to stop in the middle of the room.

“What’s wrong?” Regina asks, looking from the shower stall to Emma. 

“There’s no shower curtain.”

Regina shrugs and with her free hand reaches for the zipper on the side of her dress; the shower has glass doors, there’s no need for a curtain. She’s just about to explain this very basic concept to Emma when she realizes the implications of this particular set-up. Oh. Oh, _fuck_. Of course. Because simply being chained to her worst enemy isn’t enough.

Emma’s still just standing there, a look of what can only be described as horror on her face. Which is a bit of an overreaction, if you ask Regina. It’s not as though the lack of a shower curtain is anywhere near the most horrific thing Emma’s encountered in the past few years.

“Is this going to be a problem, Miss Swan?” Regina asks.

Emma turns and looks at her appraisingly, just watching her for a few beats. Finally, she smiles, just a little, this look that Regina recognizes as Emma Swan accepting a challenge. “No,” she says. She reaches for the top button on her shirt with her free hand, casually flicking it open. “Not at all.”

“Good,” Regina says. And it is good. Because they do need to shower, and, yes, it will be somewhat awkward, but they’re both adults. They can do this.

Regina turns away as best she can as she pulls down the zipper on the side of her dress and toes off her heels, so that she’s standing there in nothing but her bra and her stockings. 

Beside her, Emma is shedding her clothes -- kicking off her boots, unzipping her jeans, shrugging off her shirt -- and Regina keeps her eyes trained on the tiled wall of the shower, waiting for Emma to get undressed. She only glances over when she feels Emma’s shirtsleeve pool around their conjoined wrists, stuck on the cuff.

“Great,” Emma says, tugging ineffectually on the shirt, trying to pull it over their hands. “Now what?”

Regina rolls her eyes, raising her hand to magic away the shirt, but when she sees the tattoo, her hand falls back to her side and the world narrows to the mark on Emma's ribcage, black lines against pale skin.

It’s small and simple, just the outline of a lion, really, but it _is_ a lion, of that Regina is sure, and it’s like she can't move, her heart stuttering in her chest and her breath catching in her throat as the weight of what's happening crashes down around her.


	3. Emma

“Regina?” Emma says. She seems frozen there, her hand half-raised like she was about to help Emma magic her way out of her shirt. Which would have been nice, since Emma’s still stuck half-in her clothes, the cuff of her shirt hung on on their bound wrists. “Are you gonna help me out here, or...?”

“You have a tattoo,” Regina says instead of answering, and it’s a statement, not a question. A pretty hostile statement, actually.

Emma twists around to glance down at her ribcage. The tattoo is kind of embarrassing, really, a crappy outline of a lion that she got one night after a few too many drinks. She doesn’t even remember why she got it, what on earth possessed her to have a lion permanently inked on her skin. “Yeah,” she says. “So?”

“What is it?” Regina demands, and it’s kind of surreal, the Evil Queen standing there in her lacy black bra and underwear, interrogating Emma about a dumb, drunken decision she made ten years ago.

“It’s a lion,” Emma tells her, and Regina finally looks up at her, making eye contact, an expression on her face that Emma can’t read.

“You have a lion tattoo,” Regina says, and she sounds...not angry, exactly, but not happy either.

“Yeah, I have a lion tattoo,” Emma says, going back to tugging on her shirt, trying to work the sleeve around the cuffs. “Why do you care?”

Regina swallows hard, but doesn’t answer, and Emma rolls her eyes. 

“Let me guess. You hate tattoos. You think tattoos are marks of some horrible, criminal past or something. Evidence of my past indiscretions, just more proof I’d make a lousy mother, blah blah blah.” She waves her free hand in a dismissive gesture.

But Regina doesn’t say any of this, instead just asks, “Why a lion?” 

“I don’t know,” Emma says, shrugging her shoulder and tugging ineffectually at her shirt. She is way too naked to be having this conversation. “You never did anything stupid when you were sixteen?”

Regina looks up at her, her forehead furrowed in confusion. “But, why...I mean, did someone tell you to get it?”

Emma drops the shirt again and squints at Regina, her head tilted in confusion. “Who would _tell_ me to get a lion tattoo?”

“I don’t know,” Regina says quietly. She sounds legitimately confused, like Emma’s stupid tattoo has disrupted her entire worldview. “I mean, did you --”

“Listen, Regina,” Emma interrupts her. “It’s just a stupid tattoo. I don’t remember why I got it, there was no reason for it, I just...felt like getting it, okay? And now, I really, _really_ feel like taking a shower, so if you don’t mind…” she holds their joined arms up to show her the shirt dangling between them, still caught on that damn cuff. 

Regina blinks, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear it. “Right,” she says, and she still sounds a little shaky, but she’s not staring at the tattoo anymore, so. That’s progress. “Hold still, Miss Swan.”

Emma stays where she is, and Regina waves her hand, conjuring up a purple cloud of magic. When it clears, not only is the shirt gone, but so are the rest of their clothes, the two of them standing there utterly and completely naked. It takes a second before Emma manages to look away; she sort of freezes when she sees Regina without any clothes on, the smooth, full curve of her breasts, the hard, smooth lines of her stomach, and, just. She doesn't mean to look, and as soon as she realizes what she's seeing, Emma blinks and looks away, staring as hard as she can at the wall of the shower

“Uh, um, thanks, thank you,” Emma stammers, and she starts to reflexively cross her arms to cover her chest, but then Regina’s hand brushes up against her bare side, and Regina jerks away from her, fast enough that they both stumble a little.

“What the hell are you doing?” Regina demands, and Christ, you’d think Emma’s skin was made of acid or something.

Emma rolls her eyes. It’s good to know Regina’s as much a pain is the ass whether or not she’s wearing any clothes. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

“Fine,” Regina says, and she reaches into the shower to turn on the faucet. 

By the time they both actually get in the shower, the whole bathroom is filled with a thick fog of steam, dense enough that it pretty much obscures any...parts of them that they may not want the other to see. Emma still tries to cover herself up as best she can, crossing her free arm awkwardly over her body and keeping her eyes staring straight ahead, not focusing on anything. 

The shower itself is actually pretty big, but...still. She’s showering with _Regina._ Which, seriously, is probably the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to Emma since she came to Storybrooke. Which is really saying something. Something more than she’s willing to even think about right now.

So she just tries to ignore the fact that she’s shackled to a naked Regina, tries to ignore the fact that Regina's eyes keeps straying towards her ribcage (and what _is_ it about her and the that damn tattoo?), tries to ignore the way the water slides down Regina’s smooth, tan skin, the way she can feel the heat of her, somehow even hotter than the water, this kind of electric feeling that buzzes between them, like the air before a storm. 

For some reason, it’s the last thing that bothers her the most, the way that she can feel Regina beside her even through the water, even through the steam that’s filled the shower stall. 

She tells herself it’s just traces of the magic, remnants of the spell from earlier. And it actually probably is; Emma’s still getting the hang of this magic-thing, and she’s not sure she’ll ever really get used to the intensity of it, the way the power flows through her, bright and heavy and alive. So that, combined with the whole naked-in-the-shower thing, has just set her on edge, made her feel off-kilter and completely out of sorts, like she’s lost all control of everything. 

So Emma tries to ignore all of that -- ignore the magic that might still be there, still pulsing inside of her, making her skin feel too tight -- and tries to focus instead on just getting through the current horrible predicament being chained to Regina has led them to, trying not to fumble the shampoo bottle or the soap when Regina hands them to her.

The shampoo smells expensive and kind of unsettling familiar, like apples and Regina, which shouldn’t be a surprise, but Emma’s had a long day so it still catches her off-guard somehow, this realization that she knows what Regina's hair smells like.

Showering with only one free hand is more than a little awkward, and she and Regina are working so hard at not actually looking at each other that they keep accidentally touching – Emma’s fingers brushing Regina’s stomach, Regina’s knee knocking against hers, the two of them stepping on each others’ toes – just these fleeting, glancing moments of contact, but everytime it happens, they both jump a little and pull away, their arms jerking to a stop when their wrist come up against the cuffs. 

It’s is enough to keep Emma on edge the entire time they’re in there, enough that, by the time Regina finally shuts off the water, Emma’s whole body aches from the tension. The shower stall is filled with enough steam that she can hardly make out Regina through the fog, which is good because it means she can actually glance down for a second without fear of seeing...well, it’s just good, that’s all. 

Of course, once they’re outside of the shower, the steam starts to dissipate, which means it’s eyes forward again, Emma staring hard at the smooth white walls of the bathroom as Regina tosses her a towel. Emma catches it against against her chest, clutching it to her with her free hand.

“So,” Regina finally says, clearing her throat. They’ve both got their towels wrapped around them, covered up enough so they can look at each other without dying of embarrassment. Regina's hair is wet and dark, dripping water on her bare shoulders, and the towel is very white against her skin. “Do you have any sleeping attire preferences?”

Emma glances at her sidelong, not sure if she's serious. “Anything’s fine.”

“Wonderful,” Regina says, deadpan. She waves her hand, conjuring up a thick mist of purple smoke, and then Emma feels the clothes suddenly against her skin, the fabric slick and luxurious. 

When Emma glances down at what she’s wearing, she laughs before she can stop herself. Regina’s dressed them both in black silk pajamas, which is way nicer than the tank top and ratty flannel pants that Emma normally wears.

“What?” Regina demands. Her hair’s starting to dry, curling up around her face, and Emma feels a bizarre surge of affection towards her. Because of course Regina assumes that everyone wears matching silk pajamas to bed. 

“Nothing,” Emma says, shaking her head. But she can’t help the way her mouth twitches up at the corners. “I just...this is a little fancier than I’m used to,” she admits.

Regina blinks. “Yes, well. We’ll do wife beaters and sweat pants tomorrow night.”

Emma laughs before she can stop herself, and when she looks up at Regina, her lips are curled up at the corners, just a little, like she’s trying not to smile. 

Huh. Regina’s actually kind of funny. Who’d have thought? 

Of all the weird stuff Emma’s had to deal with today, she thinks that might somehow be the strangest yet.

*

After the absurdity of the whole shower situation, navigating their sleeping arrangements is comparatively simple. Regina’s bed is huge, big enough so that they can both fit without being too close to one another. 

Emma’s exhausted, an almost bone-deep weariness, but she can’t seem to fall asleep, her mind racing as she thinks about their situation, about how they’re going to get out of it. The silk pajamas feel strange against her skin, too soft and luxurious, and her hair smells like Regina’s shampoo and it’s just...it’s hard for her to fall asleep. So she just lays there in the dark for a while, trying to get her mind to slow down, willing herself to relax. Beside her, Regina is still, but for some reason, Emma doesn’t think she’s asleep. 

“What did Gold mean earlier?” Emma finally asks, the darkness of the room somehow making her more brave. They’re both lying flat on their backs on either side of the bed, their cuffed hands resting between them. “About the way to break this curse.” 

Regina shifts slightly beside her, like she’s trying to get even further away from Emma. The cuff doesn’t let her get very far, though, and she sighs. “He meant that there is one surefire way to break any curse.” 

“So what is it?” Emma says, rolling over so that she’s facing Regina. She’s barely a silhouette in the dark, the lines of her profile soft and vague in the thin light of the moon.

Regina doesn’t say anything for long enough that Emma’s worried she’s fallen asleep. But then she turns so that she’s lying on her side, facing Emma. “True love’s kiss.” 

“True love’s kiss,” Emma repeats, and she ignores the way her heart kind of speeds up, a spike of something she tells herself must be fear. “Seriously?” 

“It can break any curse,” Regina says flatly. And then she’s quiet for a few seconds, the room silent except for their breathing. “But I’ll find another way.” 

“God, I hope so. Because if that’s the only way out of this…” Emma trails off.

“It’s not,” Regina snaps. She takes a breath, loud enough that Emma can hear her exhale. “There’s another way. There is _always_ another way. I just need some time to figure out what it is.” 

Emma just nods, even though Regina probably can't see her in the dark. “I hope so,” she finally says, so quiet she’s not sure Regina even hears her. Beside her, Regina's silent, her breathing slow and even, and it takes Emma a very long time to fall asleep.


End file.
